Category — Letters To The Babies

I filmed this little video a while back. My daughters and I were on a movie date. My oldest was a little upset with me because we were late. You see, the 2011 CrossFit Games were re-running on ESPN and I made her watch. She was a little less than enthused I was delaying our departure just so we could watch people exercise. Ha! I wasn’t surprised by her reaction but I did want to make sure she saw what some of the women of the Games were capable of doing.

We finally made it to the movies. As expected, due to our tardiness, the line was a bit long. So again, my daughter expressed her displeasure with me. She also expressed the fact that she didn’t understand why I thought the ladies were so great. She said, “They have too many muscles anyway.”

Wait? What??? I told her she had to be kidding. I said, those women are beautiful. And, I told her, they have just the right amount of muscles. I also asked wouldn’t she rather be strong than not? I was actually surprised when she said she wasn’t sure. With that, I’m asking the women of CrossFit and the fitness world to help me convince my daughters that it is ok to be strong. My oldest is in middle school and at a vulnerable age where boys notice her and she cares about how she smells. Ha! But I don’t want that to turn into devaluing or limiting all the things she can be in life to fit a mold that may not be meant for her. Isn’t that the worst thing a young girl can allow herself to do? Diminish her own possibilities?

So again, I’m asking the fit ladies out there to leave a comment for my daughters. Let them know why strong is also beautiful.

Childhood is passing. Adolescence is in full swing. But worst of all, so are school dances. T-One had her first experience yesterday with a school dance. And reports have it she had to endure the advances of at least five different boys who wanted the honor of escorting to the after school affair. It is no surprise to me she is popular. She’s got the 3 G’s: gorgeousness, greatness and gregariousness. And I’m not at all nervous about the boys sniffing around her. They know I carry a big stick. But I must admit I’m a little dispirited.

As she shopped her closet for dresses and bemoaned, “I have nothing to wear”, all I could think about was how she won’t be dancing with dad anymore. Yeah, maybe I’ll get a few more in at her sweet 16, and possibly her wedding, but from here on, those dances will be few and far between.

*Sigh*

But instead of feeling sorry for myself (woe is me) I’ve decided to dance with her while I can. And, if I play my cards right, down the line when she’s “all grow’d up”, maybe every now again she’ll throw her old man a bone and let me cut a rug with her.

I am baffled why you put yourself through this. I do not know why you insist on putting yourself through the mental torture. Why is it even a part of your life? It never tells you exactly what you want to hear. And it’s likely you’ve answered for yourself before you even ask it the dreaded question.

You don’t know it but what a ridiculous question. And the only reason you’re asking is because you think you are fat. No matter what number pops up on that scale, it will not convince you otherwise. Whether the number that pops up is “high” or “low”, you will see the phrase “big fat fatty”. But don’t confuse this for chatizing. I don’t blame you for asking a silly question. I don’t even blame you for your self-defeating self-perception. You been conditioned.

Throughout your life, you’ve been sent subliminal and overt messages by a plethara of sources; movies, magazines, your girlfriends, your mother, your rabbi, your coach and I’m sure many other well meaning but ignorant folk. Their message to you has been you should be obsessed with your weight. These messages even go as far as to have you believe your self-worth is inversely correlated to the number that shows up on the scale. The smaller the number on the scale the better the person you are. But let me let you in on a little secret. The number on that scale, no matter what it says, is a crock of shit! And the question, “Am I fat?”, that prompts you to step on to such an abominable device in the first place is a bigger crock of shit.

You exist in the subconscious without opposition. It’s but a quick trip to the tongue, where you roll off with ease. And with no real impediment, you penetrate the minds of those within earshot. But the utterance of you is not even necessary. You seep from the pores of those who let you live in them. You hang in the air like a foul stench. A simple waving of the hand in front of our nose doesn’t always rid you. You are resilient. You are very convincing. So much “evidence” proves you right. And before any of us know it, we are a slave to you.

To jump, to run, to improve, to love, to live, to earn, to forgive, to forget, to change. You will convince us none of this is within our grasp. To be intelligent, to recover, to heal, to be strong, to let ourselves cry, to take risk, to be happy, to be extraordinary. You will keep us from a life fulfilled if we allow you. [Read more →]

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Shameless Plug

Benjamin Taylor is President of Brick Financial Management, LLC an investment advisory firm specializing in implementing highly focused stock, bond, and balanced portfolios. Ben also shares his views on the investment landscape at The Third Pig blog.

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